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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Tall Man Down - 6. Chapter 6

Elise Pelletiers wasn’t quite what Don expected. When she followed Pete into the costume shop, she was dressed as casually as she’d been on the first day I saw her – though this time in jeans, boots, and a floppy top that seemed to be silk. Her hair was again loose, and though its curliness seemed natural, it also seemed carefully arranged. She didn’t seem to be wearing make-up, but was.

If Don was surprised, he covered it well. His main reactions were a glance at me and a tiny grin. Quickly, though formally, he introduced himself, explaining he was trying to find out how Steven Catlin had died.

“I’ll try to help,” Elise said.

If we’d worried about her being nervous, we shouldn’t have been. She was comfortably open about her time with Catlin.

“This may sound strange,” she told us, “but Steve and I hit it off at my first interview last spring. He was almost flirting, though we were always with other people, so it seemed harmless. And I certainly didn’t think he was interested. He wasn’t around for my second interview – the final one – but I saw him again on Monday, and we spent a lot of time together. Of course, most of that was in meetings and at the party. But he was really interested in technology and how expanding that might help the school. So he kept asking me questions. He had this idea that if any of the students we were teaching now were really successful in the future – like with start-ups or anything involving technology – they could donate a lot of money.”

Pete and I must have smiled at that, and Elise seemed to know what we meant.

“Yeah, he was an opportunist. But that’s not the thing that – to me, at least – made him less interesting.” She hesitated. “Do I need to explain that?”

“Only if it helps,” Don said.

“It’s not personal or anything. It’s just that... Well, there are all kinds of things you do – sometimes for no particular reason. Things you never want to go into.”

Don smiled, but he said nothing. Pete and I let him lead.

“I liked Steve a lot,” Elise went on. “Especially at first. He was funny. And clearly intelligent. And – as I said before – he had a different way of looking at things. I almost knew we’d end up at his house on Monday night – from when he first mentioned at lunch that he sometimes stays on campus. But that was fine – I like adventures. Still, when we got there...” She paused, as if carefully considering. “ Well, if anything, he waited too long.”

She stopped and again looked at us. “I need to explain that, too. Don’t I?”

She smiled, and Don slowly nodded. As if intruding.

“Steve wanted to relax,” Elise soon picked up. “So...” And she took a breath. “He got high.”

She said this looking at Don, who didn’t react. And I guess that must not have seemed like disapproval. So she went on.

“It kind of wiped him out – maybe on top of the drinking. And he kept drinking once we got to the house. And all the tension – the good tension that I liked so much – well, it left his face. His eyes closed. He lost that intense gaze, and he started speaking more slowly. That’s when things started to cool for me.”

“About what time was this?’ Don asked. “And did you leave soon after?”

“No... not for a while.” Elise laughed, it almost seemed partly at herself. “I mean I couldn’t just walk out – I don’t do things like that. But finally, I was ready. Steve had dozed off and was just lying on the couch. I waited a little, but I hadn’t exactly been asked to stay the night. Still, as I started to go, he woke up – only now he seemed completely gone. His eyes were clouded. His shoulders drooped. But instead of saying ‘Good night’ and maybe going upstairs to bed, he poured another drink. Then he tried to walk me to my car.”

She gestured towards the window, indicating the small lot beside the building. “It was still here, almost where it’s parked now.”

She pointed out a gold Japanese sports car, which showed a little rust.

“Only he couldn’t make it. I kinda knew that would happen and tried politely to protest. He mumbled something about ‘being a gentleman,’ which made me laugh because he really was gentle... in so many ways... Anyhow, he made it to the front porch. Where we compromised by sitting on the steps.”

“Do you know when you finally left?” Don asked again.

She shook her head. “Not late, I’m sure. I wasn’t wearing a watch – I don’t. And I didn’t think to check my phone – that would’ve been rude. But I was in bed by one. That’s when I set my alarm.”

“Do you live far?”

“Maybe five minutes. Driving. And the five minute walk to my car.”

“Do you have a roommate?”

“You mean to confirm this?” She grinned. “No. For the first time in six years, I have my own place. And it’s wonderful.”

“Did you call anyone?”

“At that hour? Are you’re kidding? I don’t have a home phone anyhow, so I could’ve called from anyplace. Same about texting.”

“Just checking,” Don acknowledged. “Trying to set the time.”

“Sorry. I know I’m not helping.”

As Don smiled that away, Elise must have noticed the wall clock.

“And I really have to go now,” she said. “I’m meeting a class for the first time, and I can’t be late.”

“Another two minutes?” Don asked.

“No longer.”

He checked his notes, maybe to pick up where he’d left. “The last time you saw Steven Catlin then was Tuesday morning?”

Elise nodded. “Probably no later than twelve-thirty. Probably earlier. The party was over by eleven.”

Pete and I confirmed that.

“And President Catlin was on the porch?”

It was the first time Don had mentioned his title, and it make the proceedings seem very formal.

“Steve was standing by then and had come down as far as his car. That was in the driveway. He was leaning against it – I think so he wouldn’t fall.”

“But he wasn’t planning to drive?”

“Oh, no – he’d said we’d walk. But then I think he realized he’d gone as far as he could. So he cheerfully waved me on. In fact, he toasted me and was still smiling when I reached the street.”

“Toasted you?”

“He was still drinking. He’d somehow picked up his glass on our way out. It may’ve been on the coffee table.”

“Were the porch lights on?”

“The lights?”

“I’m trying to see what you could see.”

She considered. “I think there was only one light on the porch. A small one, not very bright. And I’m not sure what Steve could see, but yes, I could see him.”

“Were the house lights on?”

She needed to think. “In the hallway, maybe. I really don’t remember. And maybe one – a table lamp – in the living room.”

“And President Catlin was drinking?”

“Oh, yes – almost steadily. Though sipping, really. He only got high that once – one thin joint.” She quickly added. “I don’t smoke – anything. I don’t know if you believe that...”

Don nodded. and Elise seemed relieved. “One last question,” he said. “When you first came in from the party, you said, ‘He wanted to relax.’ What did you mean?”

“Just that. We came in, and Steve undid his tie. I must’ve asked where the bathroom was, and he showed me – off the kitchen. When I came out, his jacket was off, his sleeves were rolled, his collar was open, and he was rolling the joint.”

“In the living room?”

“Sitting on the couch, shoes and socks off. And he had a drink – his first one there. And there was music on, too. Bluesy. I think Ella Fitzgerald.”

“His jacket was off?”

Elise stared at the clock. “And his tie.”

“Were they in the room?”

She had to think. “Not in the living room. No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’d heard Steve go upstairs when I was in the bathroom. At least, I heard water running from above. So they could’ve been there. No – wait... wait. I remember seeing them through the arch to the dining room. From the center hall,”

“Did he leave the room at any other time? To get a drink or matches?”

“We were kind of involved.” She said that smiling, and Don set down his notes.

“That should do it for now. I may have some other questions, but I need time to think first. Can I reach you here?”

“In my office. I’ll be there a lot... I’ve got so much to do. But here’s my cell number.” She scribbled it on some paper from the cutting table. Then she smiled at all of us again and hurried out the door.

“See you,” we all called. But she was already on the stairs. Don stared out the window for a moment – I wasn’t sure why. Then I realized he was trying to read the license plate number on her car.

“I’ll get it later,” he said. “Though I doubt the guys working that night remember seeing her car.”

“Now if she’d been walking home...” Pete joked.

“She is something.”

And the three of us laughed.

“Have you ever seen Steven Catlin drunk?” Don soon asked us. “The way she described?”

“No,” Pete said. “But we don’t really know him well.”

“Would his wife tell you?”

“I doubt she’d tell anyone anything like that. Besides, we’re still getting to know each other. We meet in fabric shops, and we’ve grabbed lunch together... coffee. But she’s always guarded. She’s never stopped being Steve’s diplomatic wife.”

“I know what you mean,” Don acknowledged. “When I talked with her, she told me anything she thought was important. She seemed very open. But it was completely controlled. If there’re things I need to know... that she didn’t want to tell me...”

“Like Elise Pelletiers?” Pete asked.

Don seemed surprised. “Was she holding back?”

“Oh, yeah. She skipped around a bit – to cover it. But there were holes.”

“More than details we don’t need to hear?”

Pete shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe – because she was so careful – there are things we think we heard that really weren’t really there. But I can see why Steve liked both her and Sandra.”

“No argument here,” Don said.

“You get anything useful?” I asked.

“A couple of things.”

“You being stubborn again?”

He grinned. “No. I really need to think about this.”

“I still say you’re making too much of it. You want an investigation too badly.”

“The girls’ll be here any minute,” Pete said, maybe heading me off. Though Don and I were mainly joking. “If there’re things you still need to ask...” he went on.

“I’ve plenty to start on,” Don assured him. “Combined with all I already need to check.”

“Come by the house then,” I offered. “You know when we’re home.”

“Maybe in a day-or-two.”

“Great.”

I must have said it sarcastically because Pete gave me a look. Don missed it and instead waved to Josh and went off.

“You really think he’s blowing this up?” Pete asked, when Don was out of range.

I laughed. “You’re both too romantic.”

Outside, Don came around the corner of the building and took down the license plate number of Elise’s car.

“Will he tell us what he finds out?” Pete went on. “Can he?”

“We’ll get what he can give us. In time. Though I doubt there’ll be any surprises.”

He seemed disappointed, and for a moment, I was sorry for him. Then I remembered what a murder investigation would really mean. “It’ll finally be best if Catlin died by accident,” I told him. “Believe me. Falling asleep in an unexpected bath.”

I don’t think he heard me. “I can see why this interests you,” he said instead. “There are so many possibilities.”

“That isn’t what I liked,” I insisted. “More the ordinary routine.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

I shrugged. “I simply liked protecting the community. Being the local watchman.” It was something I couldn’t clearly explain. At that point Josh – I guess feeling too long ignored – threw something small and hard out of his playpen. It bounced off a sewing machine and rolled under a cabinet. And Josh quickly made clear how much he wanted it back.

“Yes, sir,” I kowtowed, dropping to my knees.

“We’re spoiling him,” Pete warned. “Leave it.”

“We could let him crawl for it.”

“God knows what he’d find.”

“‘The bloated cadaver of poor Mrs. Hayes.’”

“What?”

“Punch line to an old joke.”

“Not a very funny one.”

“No. Even when you think it might be.”

copyright 1987, 2019 by Richard Eisbrouch
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Our victim, sitting in the living room barefoot with his jacket and tie hanging neatly on the back of a chair in the dining room. And in a fugue state that seemed to come on him in rather a hurry, there are more and more inconsistencies that deserve investigation. The plot thickens!

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I believe Steve was a bit more active in that living room than just sitting stoned, barefoot, and without his jacket.  I think they were steps on the way to the party.

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